Absence of Mind
by Awestruck57
Summary: Edward's having trouble at work


All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

Please do note: This is under the heading of Angst.

Absence of Mind

"I'm telling you, James, I'm losing my mind," I said to my boss.

He watched me as I sat twitching and ticcing, swinging my foot and drumming my fingers on his desk. He looked as though he thought my head might explode.

"Still hearing the voices?" he asked.

I nodded, although 'voices' did not aptly describe what I was experiencing.

He sighed. "Edward, you're my best programmer. I can't afford to lose any part of you, especially your mind."

"Yeah, I'd like to hang on to that, myself," I told him. It was hard for me to keep focused, the noise in my head was almost overwhelming.

I stood and began pacing from one end of the room to the other. It was a beautiful office, richly paneled in warm shades of some honey colored wood. The desk was deceptively simple looking; it contained every bell and whistle imaginable. One wall was taken up by a bookcase, another by windows overlooking the well manicured lawns of Biodyne. He continued to watch me with the same worried look, as though he had a big bet riding on a tennis match.

"Have you ever had anything like this happen before? You didn't mention it, and it doesn't show in any of your background history."

"No," I lied.

From his raised eyebrow I inferred his disbelief.

"Well, OK, there was that one little episode when I was somewhere between nine and twelve. But it went away with no problem."

"What was it?"

"It seems as though I had, emphasis on had, some latent telepathic abilities, very small. Not worth mentioning." I held up two fingers pinched together to show just how small. "They were causing me to tune in to a neighbor who was going through some...difficulties in her relationship. It's one of the reasons I went into computers. No thoughts to pick up on. Hey, you don't suppose I'm tuning in on the little bits of mousy brains you guys have incorporated into the processors, do you?" I said, stopping my pacing in front of him and laughing a little.

I was surprised to see that his face had turned a funny sort of ashy gray-green. An icy finger trailed its way down my spine and the twitching stopped. I waited to see what he would say.

"You had an episode like that and didn't think it was worth mentioning?" He shook his head disgustedly, his color rapidly returning to normal. "I hardly think you're hearing mouse voices," he said. "I think you should go see a friend of mine." He scribbled a note on a Post-it pad and handed it to me.

"Dr. Jessica Stanley," I read, out loud. "A shrink?"

"Sort of," he said.

"What will she do for me?"

"I don't know what she'll do for _you_, but I hope she'll tell _me_ whether you are crazy or not. Call her."

"OK," I said. I really did want to know. I called, and after dropping the name of Dr. James Wells, I got an appointment for the next day.

Driving to her office I passed a bad accident. Two cars had, for some probably forever unknown reason, tried to occupy the space-time. I reflected that if our work at Biodyne was successful, one of the benefits would be making those particular kinds of tragedies things of the past. Computers would make much better drivers than humans.

Dr. Stanley's office was nice, in a nice part of town. Everything was designed to be soothing. Muted colors, muted footsteps, muted voices and music. Even the good Doctor. was muted, with gray hair and eyes and nothing outstanding at all in her appearance. Nothing to excite the imagination or the senses.

She didn't keep me waiting; I was ushered immediately into her office. "Please, sit down," she invited, with a nice, muted smile.

I complied, and she got right to it. "Now, tell me about these voices."

I thought about it for a while before answering. "They aren't really voices, exactly," I told her finally. "Not in English, or any other language, as we think of language. It's more like...feelings, that I'm getting. Anguish, fear, pain, but not physical pain. It's almost like children,...no, not children, babies, crying out in the dark. It's really bad. ."

"And when does this occur?"

"Only when I'm at Biodyne, working with the new processors they've developed using organic tissue, brain cells from mice. It's hard for me to be anywhere in the complex"

"How do you feel about the use of such tissue?"

I shrugged. "It's not something I think about, really. I'm aware that processors had reached the physical limits of the microchip, so to achieve the computing power and speed necessary to accomplish all our goals, they had go in another direction. Brain matter doesn't seem to have limitations, either on speed, or capacity."

"So, you don't have any philosophical opposition?"

"Not at all. I'm in awe of the technology that made this blend of organics and electronics possible." God, I sounded like the prospectus they'd turned over to the bank.

"Is there another stress in your life? Are your relationships, with family or lovers, satisfactory?" the Doctor wondered.

"Huh!" I snorted. "What relationships? I haven't been away from Biodyne for more than a night's sleep since I got here four months ago."

She relaxed back into her seat with a smile. "Well, then, that probably explains it."

"I don't think so," I told her, "I'm used to that, it goes with the job. I'm not big into relationships anyway."

"Can you describe in more detail what you feel when you are working with the computers at Biodyne?"

"There's nothing more to tell, really," I told her, a little irritated. I was starting to get twitchy again. "Besides, it's very uncomfortable to think about. I don't want to think about it."

She frowned. "Dr. Wells said there was an incident several years ago that led you to believe you are psychic. Tell me about that."

Now I was really annoyed. I studied her for a moment, trying to decide how much of my soul to lay bare. "What I told James was that there was situation with our next door neighbor. Her husband was tormenting her, and I picked up on it."

"You heard her screams, perhaps?" she suggested.

I shook my head. "It wasn't that kind of torment. He wasn't doing anything to her physically,...it's hard to explain. I just tuned into her misery and I was able to help."

"So, the adults in your life reinforced this belief in telepathy," she made it a statement and an accusation.

"Let's just say I convinced them."

"Were you treated?"

"No, they didn't think there was anything wrong with me!"

She must have sensed that she was closing me down. "Forgive me if I seem to be dwelling on this, but I believe it might have a bearing on the difficulty you're having now. So did I, but not for the same reason she did, and I was finished talking.

I don't know what she told James, but I was back at work on Monday. I sat in front of the computer terminal and tried to block out everything except the clear, precise string of commands I was entering.

It didn't work.

That afternoon I was back in James's office, twitching and pacing again.

"I'm not crazy, am I, James? You aren't using mouse brains are you?" I stopped in front of him. He just looked at me over the tops of his glasses. "You've got to stop this. You don't know what you're doing. Those brains don't stop growing and developing, they're becoming aware. My God, James, they're babies and they're in there screaming!"

I guess I must have lost it then. I vaguely remember dashing into the lab with some wild idea of smashing the processors and putting them out of their misery, so I would be out of mine.

Thank God they've put me somewhere far away from Biodyne. I'm sure I'll be here for a long time. That's OK, places like this are known for having outdated, antiquated computer equipment. I spend my days quietly, reading, watching old movies. I play cards a lot, with actual people, mind you, not computer games, and even though the people around me may have a short circuit or two, I can only hear them with my ears, they aren't in my head. Well, sometimes they are, but mostly I can tune them out.

And, there is this cute little nurse, long mahogany hair, big brown eyes, curvy and sweet, she loves giving me sponge baths. Yeah, I can deal with being here.

By the way, if you have the slightest bit of telepathic ability, latent or otherwise, I'd stay away from those new computers. They'll drive you right out of your mind.


End file.
